Mobys dick.

Every so often one of those moments comes along when you know you have just hooked and lost a true Leviathan. Unfortunately in most cases it ends much the same way, with some bewildered angler staring at a seemingly unending oily swirl on the water caused by the last swish of the escapee's tail, before turning agog to his infernal rod which is obviously to blame for the inexplicable loss. It's hard to put into words exactly how it feels at that moment, though most of us utter few effs and jeff's at the time to ease the transition, the reality is that once the anger has subsided it's quite a hollow feeling, like this was your one and only chance to see and hold something amazing, and you lost it before you even set eyes on it. The unseen nature of these encounters makes them even worse because inevitably the human mind has this knack for filling in spaces and when the average angler has a space to fill, they obviously do it with something three times the size of what it actually probably was.

It by now should be pretty damn obvious where I am going with this, and even though it's clicked, I know everyone likes a yarn about the one that got away so I won't stop here...

It was a pretty normal bright summer morning on the Avon. The sun was beginning to peep through the clouds and the clock was begging to tick on how long I had left on the river before a armada of rowers, day boats and swan masted pedalos beat me into submission and forced me off the river.

Through the morning I had leisurely made my way up river casting heavily weighted soft lures into the deep centre channel of the river, rhythmically retrieving them along the bottom and up the margins into the weed line. My efforts hadn't gone unrewarded and a few sprightly jacks had lashed out at the savage gear soft 4 play roach as it neared the cover.

The entire river was alive with life and I was quite surprised to see a grass snake also hunting along the edge of the river in such a populated area. I watched the little reptile work its way all along my bank peering under the lily pads looking for unsuspecting prey before it tasted the air and detected another larger predator, then crossed the river to continue its hunt in peace.

Not long after losing sight of the little snake I moved into a nice open looking swim that was lined on both sides by matching beds of lily pads. It looked the perfect place for a hunting pike to be holding up ready to attack any passing prey fish that were unaware of the danger looming in the shadows.

After first just bouncing a small orange koypto around under my feet to check for any lingering predators, I cast and covered both obvious haunts. After this I began carefully covering every cast in the swim with a soft 4 play roach, bouncing it up in a random rhythm whilst moving the rod tip from left to right causing it to change direction under water.

As I was retrieving the lure I spotted a large patch of fishy looking bubbles rising up from the margin down to my left. Quite unaware that I was doing so I pulled my lure towards the bubbles. When I saw the lure was on course for the bubbles I switched sides to circumvent them just in case. The lure passed within maybe two feet of the bubbles and literally when I was in line with them ,the rod locked up.

The line was literally solid and my natural assumption was that I had just found a good old fashioned stick fish and that I was about to be parted from my lure. It was then that I got the shock of my life when the line started moving from side to side as if something was shaking its head. My natural reaction then was to give the rod a couple of hard strikes to bed home the hook in any possible hard mouth. The striking only served to antagonize the beast whereupon it shot off sending my little reel from silent to screaming in an instant.

For once though it wasn't one of those times when I was vastly under gunned to fight such a monster, as although the set up might outwardly look a little flimsy, the seven foot rod was rated to chuck lures up to 38 grams, the braid on the reel had a 12lb breaking strain and the fluorocarbon leader at 25lb would take the strain of practically any river fish.

Really and truthfully I felt in control of the situation from the off and although the still unseen monster was giving me some real stick, I felt the tackle would hold up if I was careful. The fish though had other ideas and after several very considerate runs across the river and back decided it was time to head off upstream. This is where the problem occurred by way of a tree which had unfortunately grown right on the edge of the bank and which formed very aggressive corner.

I had no choice but to pile on the pressure and try and turn the fish back down the river. With the fish powering upstream and me desperately trying to stop it, the pressure was too much and the line fell slack. Dazed, I turned the handle of the reel to pick up all the slack line and to my surprise I hadn't been broken off at all the lure had just come free.

Truthfully at the time I was gutted to have lost what had to have been something huge. BUT! I have mulled over this incident again and again and now I am thinking maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. You see I reckon I have narrowed down what the culprit could have been. Firstly there was no way it was a zander, as no zed fights like that and I would have taken pretty much any zed no matter how big on that gear. It didn't hit like a pike at all and again I reckon I could have taken out most pike on that gear. I suppose it might have been a catfish, but that would be real rarity in the Avon. Then I thought maybe a massive eel as the side to side shaking was very eel-like, but the runs were insane and as far as I know eels aren't renowned for their repeated long runs. It was after that the thought of foul hooked fish came to mind. The area in question has got a very extensive reputation for big carp which do like to mooch along the margins. Not just that but a few big barbel have begun to get caught in the area.

So the only options for the identity of the lost beast is either an eel the size of a whales winky, or should I say Mobys dick, or that I foul hooked an unsuspecting carp which once comprehended the side to side movements of its tail did nothing, panicked and began charging round like a nutter till it got free. That last theory is exactly why I am actually OK with losing that fish even though I'd love to know what it was.

Fun in the sun.

I couldn't get out of the car quick enough and into the fresh air. My whole body was tingling and I could feel my internal temperature maxing out. The moment the hand brake was on I pushed the door open and the cool outside washed over me. Like a child trying to throw off a coat, my hands were stuck into the cuffs of my winter coat which only added to my panic. The coat finally gone I instantly bent over retching as my stomach turned. The convulsions only last seconds and soon I was upright sucking cold air through my nose. My eyes were watering as was my mouth, but the worst of it was over and I could feel myself cooling and my mind cleared enough for me to now think, what the hell was that all about.

That was not a good way to start a session, but it's not the first to begin like this lately. A little while ago back I had the very same sensation after driving a large proportion of the A46 in fog. On that occasion I was sure I was travel sick due to my eyes and my brain not marrying up over the strange focal range. This occasion too I think could be attributed to travel sickness as the entire twenty minutes driving prior to me parking I was travelling at speed with nothing but the back of a huge truck to focus on. For a while in my late teens I suffered from travel sickness, but that stopped once I learnt to drive. I think maybe a trip to the opticians might be in order just to check that my glasses prescription doesn't need updating.

All that palaver aside I did actually stick around to actually do some fishing. Years ago I fished a bit of canal literally in the middle of nowhere and it was its remoteness that in my opinion made it so good. I was hoping it was still as good as it was and that it was still stuffed with prime naive zander for me to angle after and cast a few lures at.

I began at a spot where an ancient crumbling brick wall lined the canal. After I let rip on the first cast I watched from under the woolly hat which I still wore to cover my sensitive ear as the line arched off down the canal in the bright sun. A few more searching casts in and I got hit by something determined as the lure came over the shelf. I got a brief view of a good perch before it threw the hook. It's always a relief to get an early hit as it gives you a focal point to cast at. Several repeated casts later I hooked into either the same fish or it's shoal mate in exactly the same spot, which turned out to be a an equally heavy set perch.

Its strange that the first fish I encountered was a perch as even though they must be resident, this canal had no real reputation for them. Zander though used to be unbelievably prolific in this murky water, and they still are as I found out in my next spot situated in some heavy cover. I'd barely had to search them out as I just saw a very zander looking haunt cast to it and got instantly hit my a little zedlet. Next cast too produced a few grabs and then I finally found a slightly better fish half way across the trench.

The sun though was getting brighter as it began to peep over the trees over the far bank and I was thinking this could make all the difference as the day wore on, but luckily it didn't and even begin blinded by the sun the fish still responded to my lures hitting the water. It was the ever faithful silver and black Koypto that sorted a bigger fish out. I'd just lifted and let the lure drop when the line suddenly tightened and changed angle by forty-five degrees. After a really good scrap a very angry zander was in hand, bristling in the sun.

I had to work for it but the action kept up through the rest of the session and although I didn't catch anything much bigger I did find quite few other fish willing to have a go at the lures in the sun. All in all it was a very satisfying return to an old haunt, and I don't think it will take me that long to come back again as I know there are some proper big girls lurking in this water way, as well as the large numbers of smaller fish which gave me action right up until the last cast.